


A pound of flesh

by GreenPhoenix



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-01-28
Packaged: 2018-05-16 22:09:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5842852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenPhoenix/pseuds/GreenPhoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another alternative take on "Digestivo." Will takes advantage of a bound Hannibal to get revenge on him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A pound of flesh

Alana had gotten Will free and left him to deal with Hannibal.  
”You owe me a pound of flesh,” says Will to the bound monster. “You were going to eat my brain and fed it to Jack.”  
“I did not do so,” says Hannibal, eyes on his, as if he could feed on that gaze alone.  
“Because you were stopped. Not because you chose to spare me. You owe me a pound of flesh, preferably over your heart.”  
“Will you eat it?” Hannibal asks in an even tone.  
“I do not mean it literally. I will take your pain and suffering.”  
“I see. How will you punish me?”  
“By doing what your captors did not,” says Will and strokes his ass.  
“Are you going to be so crude as to force yourself on me?”  
“I won’t force you. You will ask me for it.”  
“Will you kill me after?”  
“No. I have need of you alive. Margot needs you to take the responsibility for killing her brother.”  
“I see,” says Hannibal with as much dignity as a man bound and on all fours can muster.  
“Promise not to kill me,” says Will.  
“You have my word,” he says and Will decides to believe him.  
“I trust you,” says Will and smiles, showing all his teeth.  
Hannibal will submit to him, and some new horror will be born in Will in return, the breath of the wendigo is hot on his cheek.  
Hannibal smells Will’s arousal and his anger, thinking it nectar to his dulled senses.  
Alana didn’t understand him, but Will does.  
Will touches his ass cheeks probingly, and fingers the dry hole.  
“This will hurt,” he says. “But everything about our relationship has hurt.”  
“True love travels on a gravel road,” says Hannibal. Will stares at the bound form, and wonders if he can ever kill this man. He suspects he cannot, even as he’s trembling with anger and long pent-up lust. Even with all Hannibal has done to him Will still feels his voice in his head, snaking inside every stray thought and corrupting it.  
Will thrusts his fingers inside, and feels the muscles clench.  
He removes them and pulls his pants down.  
Will pushes his cock inside and his enemy doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t make a sound.  
He isn’t normally like this, but he is drowning in violence and blue-black murder has taken up residence behind his eyes. His blood is becoming poisoned with Hannibal’s influence. The devil has become his lover. He’s choosing his revenge coated in the form of intimacy, mimicking what lovers do.  
“Make thick my blood,” he says as he strokes the brand on Hannibal’s back.  
“Are you lady Macbeth, Will?”  
“No, I am Persephone seduced into darkness by Hades’ love.”  
“You are as beautiful as you are terrible,” says Hannibal admiringly.  
Will starts stroking Hannibal’s cock.  
“Do you want me to stop?” he asks, the anger and the lust threatening to overwhelm him.  
“No. I like you like this,” says Hannibal, imperious even when Will is taking him without tenderness, his thrusts as punishing as he can make them.  
“Every sadist is secretly a masochist? You desire my violence? Of course you do.”  
“I feel you becoming the creature you were always meant to be.”  
Will thrusts and feels his cock hugged by the tightness of Hannibal’s hole.  
He feels his release loom, it’s full of bitterness and hurt.  
Will comes, and Hannibal grunts and follows, coating Will’s fingers with his semen.  
“I should leave you here,” says Will and pulls himself from Hannibal, but he cuts the ropes.  
“Do you hate me?” asks Hannibal, standing; his legs decorated by Will’s come.  
“No.”  
Hannibal pulls him close and devours his mouth, Will allows him to make this gesture.  
They pull apart, and Hannibal takes the dead guard’s clothes and puts them on.  
“I am sorry,” says Will, eyes downcast.  
“You are not,” says Hannibal, not chastising, merely stating a fact.  
“I guess not.”  
“Come with me. I will show you the world,” he says, eyes bright.  
“How can I refuse?” asks Will, but he can’t, because there is nowhere else to go for him.  
“Your anger, is it still in you?”  
“It resides in my chest, beating with your blood in my veins. You made me. This is how I go now.”’  
”Let us help our not so distressed damsels.”  
“Yes,” says Will.  
He has had his pound of flesh and Hannibal has what he needs in this world.


End file.
